The Flower Shop of Insomnia
by Vanya Heart
Summary: Outside of home, Toris is the perfect child - always getting straight A's and on good behavior - but at home, he's a "monster". When, one day, he gets angry at his mother, Toris winds up at a strange flower shop, and meets a strange, troubling boy, who he CAN'T get out of his head. AU. Rated M for cussing and murder. LietRuss.
1. Chapter 1 - The Flower Shop

The Flower Shop of Insomnia 

_Chapter 1_

Dark shadows clouded the child's vision – the child who sat in a puddle of crimson liquid upon the cold, hard, kitchen floor. It was cold inside the house, and a freezing blizzard raged outside. Snow fluttered in through the shattered window and hit the child in the face, freezing his tears, and the sticky substances around him. Violent screams and cries echoed throughout the room; terrible things were done in the place, all around the child, yet he did not look up. The child stared straight ahead, his light lavender eyes locked upon the broken window, and the knocked over vase that had been set on the kitchen counter. The blue chamomile flowers that had been inside it were spilled across the floor, their roots sucking up the red.

"Stop, please, stop!" A woman's voice screamed, sounding strained and agonized. Something fell from the counter top behind the child and shattered on the floor, but he sat still, unmoving. Quiet sobs wracked his shoulders, but he would not look behind him.

A dark, unfamiliar voice cackled at that, and was followed by many other devious voices. "You want me to stop? You want to die?" Like the rumble of an avalanche, the voice let out a quiet chuckle, that gradually grew louder, and louder, until it was an insane laugh. "Everybody! She wants to die!" The deep voice screamed, and the sound of a skull hitting the edge of the counter was apparent, and followed by a sharp cry.

Silence followed for a moment, and the child tried to curl into himself. He wished he could just disappear, and the cold was really staring to make him shiver. In fact, everything about him seemed to be cold, from his tears, to his hands, to the tiny, pumping heart inside his rising and falling chest. Coughing meekly into his elbow, the child closed his eyes and tried to escape from the nightmare he was having. It was such an awful nightmare.

"Kill me." The woman's voice sounded weak, but determined, and if he tried to pinpoint the noise, the child figured she was lying on the floor, not too far behind him. A shiver ran up his spine. "Kill me." The woman repeated in a shrill voice. "Just...let me be the _last_. Please don't hurt my son."

Wicked snickering answered the female voice's desperate pleas. "Sorry, lady, we can't risk anything." One of the strangers said bluntly, and the noise of something crunching reverberated throughout the room. This time it was not something falling from the counter. This time, it was something hard being smashed in. The world seemed to grow colder, and, finally, the child turned his head. His large, wet eyes met the messy red body of his mother before him: her clothes were torn and ragged, barely any of them were left, and her eyes were pale, and open. Her mouth stretched wide into an unspoken cry of terror, or hatred, and her teeth were smashed in at some places. An ugly dent showed upon her skull where it had been apparently bludgeoned in.

"Mamulya..." The word, softly spoken, slipped from the child's lips, and his head tilted back ever-so-slightly, allowing him to stare up at the faces of the villains who had done this. For the first time, he seemed to realize that this was no dream – the blood that littered the floor and lacerated his trembling body was real. The screams of his sisters were _real_ – their deaths were _real – _and his father falling down still in the kitchen, with a knife in his throat, that was real! And now...now his mother – his Mamulya – _she _was dead, and _this _was real. "Mamulya!" He squeaked, mouth falling agape in horror.

A large man beamed down at him. His face was partially consumed by shadow, but he stepped closer, tilting his head as he looked upon the child. Sharp, gray eyes surveyed the child's body, glinting dully, and deviously. "What a _worthless _thing you are." He sneered, drawing his hand backwards swiftly. "Well," he said, and his shadowy comrades laughed wickedly behind him. "say goodbye to the last Braginsky."

The sound of something whooshing through the air enveloped the child's ears during the last moment, and his eyes turned hard and emotionless, glued upon the strangers face. At that exact moment, a bloodied bat caught him harshly in the head, and he felt him self careening backwards, something wet running down his face. "Nyet..." He whispered, but so quietly that no one heard him, and then, the world turned pitch black, and everything became cold.

* * *

Toris Lorinaitis was a 16-year-old honor student, who always got straight A's, and was the most mature out of his whole family – adults included – at his youthful age. Since his mother and father fought a lot, Toris often was the one who did the cleaning, cooking, and caring for the children around his house. It wasn't that he minded – Toris _liked _being able to help out his family – and it made him feel useful, at least to his brothers. To his parents...he sometimes felt like they saw him as a menace.

"Shut the hell up you stupid bastard! You think I _like _staying home all fucking day? It's not _my _fault the damned kids get sick all the time, and are irresponsible little brats!"

It was only five o'clock in the morning, and already they were at it. Toris heard his mother's voice scream first – he had been awake, as he usually got up around four, but beforehand his parent's fighting had only been quiet snapping. Sighing, and feeling a tremor pass through his frame, Toris delicately set down the history book he had been reading and rose to his feet. As suspected, his mother's screams had awoken his two younger siblings – Eduard and Ravis – and the latter was shaking like a leaf.

"Don't talk to me that way, you lazy-ass bitch! I work my _ass _off so you and the kids can have a happy life, and this is how you repay me?" Their father's voice rang out, thunderously loud, and chalk-full of potential violence. "The _least_ you could do is cook every once in a fucking while, or clean the damned house!"

A cry came out of Ravis' mouth, and he seemed to sink into the blankets surrounding him. He shared a bunk with Eduard, and was on the bottom, while Toris had his own, smaller bed, off to the side. "T-T-Toris!" Ravis squeaked, tears glistening in his large, blue eyes. "Toris, they're doing it again!" The tears slid down his cheeks, and scattered upon his pajamas (which was his father's T-shirt, and a pair of boxers). Fear wracked the boy's thin body, and hiccups began emerging from his lips.

Ignoring the screaming of his mother and father, Toris went over to his littlest brother, and put his arms around him in a gentle way. "I know, Ravis, but it'll be okay." He murmured reassuringly, stroking the tips of his fingers against Ravis' soft light brown hair. He tried to smile, but it came out lopsided, and bitter-sweet. "We just have to wait a little bit, and then they'll stop." He told Ravis instead.

The blankets on the top bunk rustled softly, and Eduard peered over the edge of the railing on his bed, down at the other two. "Father goes to work soon." He said, trying to remain cool, although Toris caught the waver in his voice; he was just as scared as any of them. "Don't cry, Ravis, it's unseemly for a male."

Toris cast his brother a sharp glare for that. "_Anyone_ can cry." He growled, a bit to forcefully, as Eduard openly flinched. Taking in a deep breath, Toris continued. "crying actually releases tension." He gave Eduard an apologetic look after speaking, and his brother nodded in response.

As said, only about ten minutes of fighting lasted before the trio of frightened children heard the door slam; it was their father, they correctly assumed, storming off to work. Hearing this done, Toris rose from his place on the bed beside Ravis. "See? Everything's alright." He chuckled lightly, a false smile playing on his lips. "You can all go back to sleep...it _is_ Saturday."

Not waiting to see if his brothers listened to him or not, Toris walked out the door, and shut it closed quietly behind him. _I should check on mother. _He thought, and the thought itself seemed timid in his mind. He slowly, carefully, made his way down the dimly lit hallway – the sunlight that seeped through the small windows was gray almost, and not yet alive – and stepped out into the living room. "Mother?" He called softly. "Is everything alright?" After a while of earning no response, he crept around the corner to peer over the back of the couch. There, his mother lay, her arm covering her red and swollen eyes, and wetness still visible on her cheeks. There was a broken picture frame next to where she lay, and a bruise covered her right wrist. "Mom..."

At the sound of her son's voice, Toris' mother drew her arm away from her face, and glared upon her son with sharp, angry blue eyes. Her eyes matched exactly to Ravis' and Eduard's, but bore no similarity to Toris' at all – his were bright, emerald green, like his father's. "Love child," She murmured softly, her voice full of thick hate all the same, "Your filthy eyes... You look _exactly _like him." With that, she sat up sharply, causing Toris to flinch back a bit.

Composing himself, Toris came forwards once more. "Mother, are you hurt?" He asked quietly, feeling the familiar sensation of his shoulders trembling. He reached out towards his mother's wrist, slowly and cautiously, and brushed his fingers against the light blue bruise. "Did he do this-?" He began.

"It's _your_ fault!" His mother cut him off, jerking him forwards violently, so that he tumbled forwards and was halfway bent over the couch. The back of it was digging into his tummy, causing him to gag and cough; it was quite uncomfortable. "You son of a bitch! You monster!" His mother screeched, slapping him harshly across the face, so hard that his lip tore. He didn't move to fight her at all, and she slapped the other side of his face violently before shoving him backwards and away from herself. "You _disgust _me. You monster. If I hadn't gotten pregnant with you, I wouldn't have had to marry your father. _Monster_."

Pain struck Toris sharp in the chest, and it felt worse than the slaps he had received just moments ago. It was his mother's words which caused him to bow his head, letting strands of his light-chocolate hair cover his eyes, as he attempted to conceal the tears that were budding in the corners of them. "Maybe you should have had me aborted then." He hissed out of spite, although his vocals sounded weak.

"Don't you _dare _speak to me that way!" His mother snarled threateningly, looming over him. "I'll have your father teach you a lesson, you insolent brat!" Her hawk eyes flashed with pleasure when she saw Toris flinch at that, and then she lay back upon the couch, smiling. "Besides, if we had been living in America when I discovered I was heavy with you...I _would have_ you dead. You _should_ have been aborted. You're so ungrateful – I really don't think you deserve to be alive." Sniffing contemptuously, she proceeded to roll over onto her side, facing away from Toris. There was the sound of something rattling as she pulled a bottle of pills out from between the cushions of the couch. She slowly opened the top of the bottle, poured a few of the blue and yellow things into her hand, and then popped them in, gulping them down without any water. "Get out of my sight." She hissed afterward. Toris fled.

Stomping away from her, Toris rushed through the front door and slammed it hard behind him. _Just like your father... _His mother seemed to taunt in his head, and he slammed his hand against his ear furiously, as if to rid himself from his own thoughts. "Shut up..." He said to no one in particular as he felt the coldness of the morning air bite into his skin. Luckily, he changed into his day clothes as soon as he had awoken – Toris always came prepared for incidents such as this one, as they weren't an uncommon occurrence. Unhesitating, the 16-year-old made his way across the lawn and around the corner of his house. There, he found his old, worn bike. He put on his helmet, and hopped onto it, then sped down the sidewalk and into the street, intending on getting as far away from his family as he could possibly get at the moment. "I'm sorry..." He told the wind in a whisper, thinking of Eduard and Ravis being left alone. _There's no helping it...I'll return soon. _

The road took him down and into town, where a cluster of little shops and stores gathered. _I'll cool off here for a while... _Toris told himself, pulling into the bike rack and safely securing his bike there. The silvery metal glistened in the sunlight, catching it's shine in his eyes and making them light up even greener than usual. For a while he wandered around, stopping only every once in a while to peer into shop windows and stare at their contents. He hadn't brought his wallet with him, unfortunately, and the only money he had was a couple of dollars he had forgotten to take out of his jeans the last time he had worn them. _Well...it's not like I need to buy anything anyways. _He thought, bored, and he turned away from the last of the dull cafes and clothing shops, and began to walk back towards his house.

Something bright caught his eye. Toris turned his head ever-so-slightly, finding himself gazing upon a small, but prettily colored shop, wedged in the corner of the rest of them. He didn't recall ever seeing _that_ shop before: it had an overhanging roof that covered the entrance, and the contents beneath it, and was painted neon green, (although the paint was old, cracked, and faded,) with little splashes of yellow sunflowers here and there upon it. Although it _was_ intriguing, it was only a flower shop after all, and Toris was just about to turn away from it and go back to his bike...but then he recalled how upset his mother had been, and how she had said _'I'll have your father teach you a lesson'. _Maybe, he could make her feel less sour, if he brought her back a flower or two... _I just hope the money in my pocket is enough... _

Sucking in a breath for confidence, Toris walked towards the place. His hands dove into his pockets, shakily counting the small amount of bills he had there, and he slowly came up to the flower shop. He looked up, searching for a title of the store, but there was none to be seen, so he stepped beneath the awning; in front of the shop, he was greeted by, it seemed, thousands of absolutely _stunning_ flowers, growing merrily out of barrels. So many lovely shades of reds, blues, and yellows made him nervous, and he took a timorous step back, thinking, perhaps, he couldn't afford anything anyways, so it would be best to leave. _Yes...this was an irrational idea in the first place. _He thought, eyes flickering over the sprouting daffodils and flourishing irises, then towards the door. Hands damp with sweat, he turned to leave.

Something caught upon his sleeve and tugged. "H-ah!" Toris flinched greatly, spinning around in fear with his arm pulled back defensively. He came face-to-face with a silver-blonde haired boy, with giant, purple eyes full of innocence. The child stumbled away from him when he saw Toris' hand raised at him, letting out a shrill squeak of fear. The watering can that was in his left hand tumbled out and spilled all over the ground, and then he slipped in the water and landed on his rump, staring upwards at Toris with his jaw agape. "Oh..." Toris murmured, unsure.

Blinking, the boy hurriedly picked up the watering can, and attempted to get to his feet. His light-colored eyebrows were knitted together with worry and he chewed at his lower lip fretfully. "Please, forgive me, sir." He said, almost inaudibly, bowing the whole upper portion of his body to Toris, causing the elder boy to blush. "I-I hope I didn't wet your clothes, sir, I am very, very sorry, sir." The child went on, not meeting Toris' eyes. His hands trembled, and the free one, that wasn't holding the watering can, fumbled with a pale pink scarf that was wrapped around his neck. "S-sorry..."

A smile crossed Toris' lips for a brief moment. "Oh...t-that's OK!" He chirped, trying to sound merry, but his tone came out to sharply and he saw the little boy jump and drop his watering can again. The silver-blonde hair on his head swished to the side as he flinched, revealing the start of a cruel, wide scar. Feelings of empathy seemed to touch Toris' soul almost immediately. "Um...I'm sorry I frightened you." He apologized quickly, kneeling on the ground to retrieve the watering can and hand it back to the boy. "Let me help you clean up..."

"Nyet!" The child snapped, and Toris blinked with surprise. The boy proceeded to take a step backwards, his whole face turning bright red, and his shoulders quivering in a way that reminded Toris of his own.

Taken aback, a chuckle escaped his throat. "Hah...you are Russian?" He asked, although it was more of a statement. The child did not respond to him, so he continued smiling, and murmured, "Come. Let me help you. What's your name?"

Seeing this boy was not going to give up, the child sighed, swaying back and forth on the tops of his ankles. "Ivan." He told Toris almost silently, not looking up. His interesting eyes remained glazed upon the pool of water on the ground, and after a while of staring at it, tears came to his eyes, and he started to cry.

"A-ah...Ivan...don't..." Feeling increasingly bad, Toris knelt to the boy height, and reached out an uncertain hand. "Please...don't cry...it was my fault...I'm sorry." His emerald eyes shone like molten green lava, and his mouth was opened into a little 'o' shape of confusion, and pity. "I'm sorry..." _I've barely met him, and now he's crying... _

Shaking slightly, the boy reached up a hand to wipe the tears from his face roughly. He sniffled loudly, then looked at Toris, and his glossy light purple eyes seemed to be full of stars. For a second, it seemed as if he were about to smile...but then a great shadow fell over both of them, and a hand reached down and grabbed Ivan by the back of his shirt harshly. Automatically, the boy began sobbing again.

Looking up, Toris spotted a tall and lanky man, with sunken in cheek bones and dark, deep, yellow eyes, with spots of brown inside them. His hair was long and oily, black, and braided into a thick singular braid that ran down to his thigh. "Ivan!" He snapped menacingly, causing the boy to drop the watering can once more. "Were you being rude to customers again?"

A squeak escaped Ivan's throat, and he thrashed about in the man's arms wildly, kicking out his feet and hands like a trapped animal. "N-no! No!" He wailed. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" His mouth opened wide and he let out a long, siren-like screech. Toris stood by, or rather, knelt, as he was still on the ground, and stared up at the boy with a shocked expression.

Setting Ivan back on the ground, the man gripped him by his hair. "What did you do to this man? Did you push him down! What did you do?" Furious, he spun Ivan around so he was face-to-face with Toris. The boy was sobbing audibly now, and the man swatted him harshly from behind. "Apologize!" He demanded, hitting him again.

"I-I-I-I'm-" He started, the tears falling off his cheeks and splattering onto the ground.

"I'm sorry! No, it was my fault, sir, I bumped into him, I'm sorry, I scared him, and he dropped the watering can." Rising to his feet, Toris gave Ivan a sorry look, then glanced up at the man holding him with a burning expression. This whole situation reminded him of something his mother might have done to him when he was younger, and he did not wish it to repeat itself to this young child here. "Please, don't take it out on him, sir. It really _was_ my fault." He stated as sincerely as he possibly could, trying not to let hatred simmer beneath his gaze.

The owner of the flower shop laughed heartily, then released Ivan as if he hadn't planned on spanking the child right then and there in front of Toris. His banana-rotten yellow eyes squinted when he chuckled, and his teeth shone a strange, almost gray color. "Ahahaha, I apologize then!" He gasped, giving Toris a pat on the shoulder. "I thought Ivan had been misbehaving again – he's quite the troublesome child." Smiling almost kindly, he reached over and ruffled Ivan's silver-blonde hair, causing the boy to grimace at his touch. "Anyways...what kind of flowers were you looking to buy?"

"Oh, please, let me clean up the mess first-"

"_No_." The way he said it made Toris jump. "That's okay, hah hah!" He went on merrily. "Ivan will clean it up. What kind of flower were you looking for?"

_This bastard... _"Um...I..." Toris sought for words to say, but none would come to his mouth at the moment. It felt dry, and thick; it was hard to speak for some reason, like there was cotton on his tongue. "I..." He tore his eyes away from the flower shop owner and stared at the ground. "I was just looking." He muttered coldly. "I don't have any money right now."

"Oh." The man seemed to loose interest in him then. "Well," He began coolly, distantly, tossing Ivan aside as if he were nothing but a rag doll. The boy stumbled and then darted into the shop itself, away from the both of them; this made Toris feel quite sad. "if you ever _have_ money, my name is Alan Temuujin. I have the best flowers in town, don't forget that."

They were pretty great-looking flowers. "I won't." Toris grumbled to him. "See you another time." With that said, he turned and fled away from the shop, taking the lingering scent of flowers with him. Even as he unhinged his bike from the bike rack, the scent still remained. He cast one last look towards the brightly painted flower shop, and wondered if Temuujin was still out there, watching him like he were a thief. _Like I'd want to steal flowers, anyways! _He laughed to himself sarcastically, pushing his helmet onto his head and buckling the strap beneath his chin. As he hopped onto his silver bike, Toris saw Ivan back outside at the flower shop. The boy was crouched on his hands and knees with a rag, mopping up the water he had spilled. _Why not just let it evaporate...? _Toris slightly wandered, but, deciding it made no matter either way, he turned his head and forced himself to drive home.

All night, Toris lay awake thinking about that child. He thought about him so hard even, that he couldn't hear the wretched screaming of his mother and father, nor could he hear the whimpers he himself was making in the back of his throat. His mind was _so_ enveloped in the day's incidents, that he barely cried when his father 'taught him a lesson' for being insolent to his mother that morning, and, when he fell asleep, he even dreamed of the shop, and the sunflowers painted on the building, and Ivan, sitting in a puddle of spilled water, staring up at the cloudy sky, and singing.

* * *

**Well...I know I really shouldn't be starting another story, but I'll make this one a short one, I think. It should only have a few chapters in it...but anyhow...this story was inspired by the song "In a Rainy Town, Balloons Dance with Devils", even though I've strayed far from the plot of the song (but that's OK, I think). Anyways, if you look up the song, listen to Fukuwa's version, as it's awesome, and that's the version that really fits this story the best~.**

**Besides that...  
**

**Alan Temuujin - the name is Mongolian. Mongolian people don't have last names, in general, therefore his name is Temuujin, but his first name is his father's name (they put their dad's name in front). I don't feel like explaining. Whatever.  
**


	2. Chapter 2 - A Beautiful Depression

The Flower Shop of Insomnia 

_Chapter 2 ~ A Beautiful Depression _

The beautiful sound of applause reached Toris' ears as he pulled his fingers away from the glistening, white keys. Children and adults alike rose from their seats with wide, proud, and disbelieved smirks on their faces. The announcer chuckled something good-naturedly into the microphone, causing the crowd to snicker, and Toris blushed hotly at them, his face resembling a rose in full bloom. "T-thank you." He stammered softly, although his voice was not heard above the applause; all the previous fire and strength that had been inside Toris' body seemed to have left him at the end of his performance. Still, he knew that he was talented – singing while playing the piano was one of his best talents, aside from studying like crazy – and everyone seemed to love it. Stage hands crept up the black steps as Toris descended them, and he watched the large, muscular boys take the piano between the lot of them, and hoist it into the air. They were _extremely _careful with it, and did not even come close to dropping it – it was Mister Edelstein's, and he had violently threatened to tear the hair off of anyone who was careless enough with it to damage it.

"Toris! You played wonderfully!" Said teacher praised when the boy walked down the stairs and into the curtained off area of the stage, where the rest of the children with following acts awaited their turns. Mister Edelstein's hard blue eyes were shining with enthusiasm, something they didn't do very often, and his mouth even looked close to smiling. Toris was his best student, and he always payed the child more attention than he did to anyone else in his class; this was something Toris loved, although it made him feel terrible, taking away other kids' attention. "Did you compose that song yourself?" Mister Edelstein inquired, fiddling with his wide, square glasses as he did so. His eyebrows furrowed a bit then, and he added, "It didn't sound..._usual_."

A shadow of a smile crossed the timid Toris' lips, and he stared down at his feet, flustering an even hotter shade of red. It had been a month into school, a month since he had met the strange little boy at the flower shop; he had just finished performing in his school's annual talent show. "Well, sir," He began cautiously, twisting his feet a bit, for he always felt a tad bit uncomfortable under any adult's gaze. "I usually compose songs about..." He trailed off, not wanting to say 'myself'. What if Mister Edelstein called child protective services? The last time a teacher had done that, Toris' mother and father had been _furious_. It had been Ravis' fault, wearing a short-sleeved shirt to school when he had apparent bruises on his arms, but Toris had taken the blame, saying he got angry and told purposefully to cause his parents trouble. His parents didn't know _which _teacher called the CPS, so they had believed Toris automatically (he was the trouble-maker, after all), and once they were no longer under supervision, Toris' father had made sure he was unable to sit for a week.

"Well?" Mister Edelstein's sharp voice broke Toris away from his disdainful thoughts. The teacher's eyebrows were now crushed all the way down upon his eyes – a certain sign that he was either annoyed or concerned over something – and his thin, white hands were resting upon his hips. "What was different about this song, Toris?" He prodded.

Forcing his head to rise, Toris looked straight into his music teacher's navy eyes. "This song was different, because it was _darker_." He emphasized softly, smooth, white face shining in the yellow light of the gymnasium. He felt as if he were acting a bit defiant, raising his head as such, and suddenly Toris felt his lip began to tremble. _How dare you betray me at this moment. _He thought to himself, snorting with discontentment and lowering his head once more.

A short laugh came from Mister Edelstein, and, removing one hand from his hip, he pushed the hair out of his eyes, and began adjusting his glasses once more. "Most of your songs are dark, boy." He stated; Toris flinched at this, for whenever Mister Edelstein called someone 'boy' or 'girl', it meant he was not happy.

_He's irritated at me. _Toris wracked his brain for an excuse, but, in reality, he couldn't fathom a reason _why_ this song was different than his usual ones. After a moment of rolling over words in his head, he finally came up with a decent reply. "In this song, the point is not focused on one person's agony." He explained quietly, speaking in a monotonous voice that he used often in school. "This song is about duo pain – two people discovering each others secrets – and the stronger person is trying to aid the weaker one, even though it's hard for that person, as they have their own demons to deal with." Feeling satisfied, Toris gave his teacher a very slight smile. However, Mister Edelstein did not smile back, or seemed pleased for that matter.

After a moment of silence, the man shook his head, causing a single, untidy cowlick on the top of his head to bounce up and down. "No..." He sighed, staring up at the ceiling, as if it would give him answers. Finally, he stuck one index finger into the air, and his face lit up a bit. "Oh, I know." Mister Edelstein said excitedly (if you could call it excitement; it was a very minor amount of excitement). "I see what you're hiding." The man accused, jabbing his finger towards Toris' face, and causing the child to jump a step back in return. "This song...is really a love song."

It felt as if someone had dumped ice-water over Toris' head when he was sleeping. "N-no, M-Mister Edelstein!" He yelped, unnerved. That was impossible! Before he could stop himself, Toris' shoulders were quivering, and his hands shaking gently against his sides. "It's not a love song, sir!" He desperately whined, trying to convince the man to the best of his ability. Toris' green eyes were gigantic and frightened-looking, and he really did fit the description of 'a deer caught in the headlights'. "T-they are just f-friends, sir." He pushed.

"...hmf." Mister Edelstein grunted after a while, and pretended as if he were not interested in his ace pupil for just a moment; he let his dark eyes wander across the other students, and tapped his conductors stick against his knee. When he looked back down at Toris, his mouth was a straight line. "This song is about real people." He observed coolly, nodding his head. "Are you, perhaps, the person who will take the summer sunflowers, and free the caged butterfly from it's rotted-tar prison?" When Toris did not respond, the music teacher smiled – yes, he actually smiled – wryly and knowingly. His smirk brought up the corners of his mouth, making his little dark mole move up in the slightest. His smile did not last for long, although he seemed somehow proud that he had made Toris pale with mortification. "Ah, what do I know?" Mister Edelstein asked himself with a sarcastic flick of his graceful hands. "I'm just a professor in music."

Toris focused his eyes on the floor once more. "I didn't mean to make it sound like a love song..." He murmured guiltily, shrugging his shoulders upwards.

"I know." Mister Edelstein said sympathetically, and he patted Toris on the head. "Now, the talent show is coming to a conclusion, why don't you head on to your next class..."

"Bro, you like, did awesome in the talent show." Feliks was chattering on as Toris desperately tried to focus on his lungs not caving in. Unfortunately for his friend and he, they were stuck with sixth period P.E. Of all the things Toris was good at, physical education was not one of them.

Licking his dried lips, Toris slowly nodded. "Y-yeah." He croaked, throat feeling like tightly adjusted guitar strings, ready to snap at any moment. "T-thank y-you." He rasped, choking on his own saliva as he spoke and having to pause on the lap he was running to catch some breath. The boy's shoulders heaved up and down pathetically, and it felt as if his side were on fire. Toris really _hated_ running; the whole sport of it was incomprehensible to him, and each time his coach made them run the mile, it felt like punishment.

Noticing his student's pause of activity, the coach rose to to his feet from the blacktop he had been languidly sitting on and leaning against the bathroom building. "Pick up the pace, Toris!" He snapped, sharp blue eyes glittering like glaciers beneath the rays of sunlight. Toris didn't like Coach's eyes that much, as they sort of reminded him of his mother, although he knew Coach wasn't a bad person. He was just a grumpy old German who seemed set on telling no one his last name, and resorted to being called just 'Coach'. "Come, come," The man urged, his wide muscles rippling beneath his white man-tank-top that he wore. Toris couldn't help but stare at them as he gulped. "you only have one more lap left. Don't give up now." Coach said calmly, cracking his knuckles in front of him.

Nodding obediently, Toris stiffened his back and swallowed, trying to wet his dry, wind-whipped throat. "I'm so sorry sir..." He said quietly, stretching his arms around in an attempt to loosen the tight, sore muscles in his back – his back seemed to _always_ be so sore – and rolling his shoulders. Ignoring a snort and snide comment from Feliks about Coach's 'useless abs', Toris turned to finish his lap. However, just as he began running, a voice called out to him. Upon the sound of his name, Toris stopped, so abruptly in fact that his body was launched forwards and he fell face down into the dampened grass beneath him.

"Ah, Toris, are you okay-?" A soft and courteous voice began, from not far behind him. Feliks was helping his friend to his feet when Toris turned to see who had addressed him. Much to his surprise, it was his English teacher, Mister Kirkland, a strange British man with humorously thick eyebrows. Mister Kirkland sometimes pulled Toris out of P.E. (which the child was quite grateful for) so that he could help the teacher with some of his work. Toris himself loved English, and his teacher _loved_ having a bright aid whom he claimed could grade papers 'as well as any wanking American college grad'.

However Coach despised the British man.

"Oh, nein, you are _not_ checking him out again." Coach growled, whirling angrily to face Mister Kirkland and giving him a rather-impressive death glare. Compared to Coach, Mister Kirkland looked like a spaghetti-armed little girl, although the man himself didn't seem to see that. He stood up to Coach as if he were a giant, and everyone else around him were ants. This display of false strength agitated German coach even more, and his chest seemed to puff up with annoyance as he grunted. "You check him out almost every other day!" He snapped. "And then Edelstein takes him from me on the days when you don't! The boy's not _that_ much of a genius, and to keep his mind healthy, he needs exercise."

It made Toris a bit chagrin to be addressed in such a way. In his mind, Coach was speaking of him as if he were almost an object, or an animal. _There are certain ways an animal must be raised. _Toris thought to himself numbly, then stared down at his toes with nonchalant, green eyes. Feliks nudged his ribcage with an elbow, but the latter didn't move.

Peering over the tall German man's shoulder, Mister Kirkland seemed to notice Toris' distress. "Come now," He chided Coach in a motherly tone. "is all you're capable of insulting children?" Sniffing impudently, he strode past Coach, purposefully bumping shoulders with him as he went by. "Toris, can you come with me?" He asked politely when he was standing directly in front of the boy. "I need some extra help around the classroom."

Looking towards Coach despairingly, Toris found himself unable to respond. He didn't want to displease either of his teachers, though if he really had to choose what he _wanted_, he would go with his English teacher. Coach returned him a look of blank, dead emotion, and Toris soon found he was on his own. _I'm supposed to choose what's right... _He told himself, although he felt quite confused. _R-right...? _Taking a deep breath, Toris turned to Mister Kirkland, and tried to look him straight in the eyes. However, his gaze wavered, and he soon found himself staring at his shoes and quivering. "I-I need to b-be in this class right now, Mister Kirkland, s-sir." He stuttered, hating himself for that.

For a moment a strange look crossed Mister Kirkland's countenance. Toris couldn't tell which emotion the teacher was feeling, but it looked a little bit like disappointment, mingled with guilt and anger. No sooner had the look crossed Mister Kirkland's face then it disappeared, and the man turned to give Coach a hard, stony glare. "I'm not as _daft_ as you are to believe." He muttered in a low growl, then came forwards and began hissing inaudible things into Coach's ears. Toris couldn't make out what they were saying but he caught the words 'locker room' and 'bruises'. A shudder was transferred from Toris' neck, all the way throughout the rest of his body as he stared and wondered _what_ they were talking about.

"Toris," Coach's hard and emotionless voice snapped the boy out of his thoughts. He raised his head hurriedly, nipping at his lower lip and pondering the possibility that he may have done something wrong, unintentionally. "go continue your lap." Coach said again.

"Yes, sir." Toris nodded dumbly, then turned and ran.

Having no car of his own, Toris had to ride his bike all the way down to the middle school where his brothers attended. Eduard was in seventh grade, and Ravis in sixth. It was a hot day, and the sun pounded upon the boy's back as he biked along, causing sweat to seep from his pores and stain the light gray T-shirt he was wearing. His shoulder bag backpack bounced heavily against his hip as he rode, causing pain to shoot up his leg every once in a while. _Ah, I'm so weak... _He told himself sorrowfully as he arrived at the back gates of the school and parked his bike against the side of the fence. His high school got out earlier than the middle school – Toris was dismissed at 2:00, while his brothers weren't allowed to leave until 2:45 – but the ride to the school usually took about thirty minutes, and Toris had come slowly today, mind still contemplating Coach and Mister Kirkland's odd behavior, so he was later than usual.

The sixth graders seemed to have been given a free period today, as instead of being in class, they were roaming about on the grassy playground, and rolling around with one another. Squeals of delight and happiness echoed all around him, and Toris felt a lump rise to his throat. He wished he could return to his innocent days of middle school...everything seemed to get worse and worse the more he aged.

On top of the red and blue, shimmering slide stood Ravis, with his chest pushed out triumphantly. It was quite an odd thing to see, as Ravis hardly ever looked proud of himself, but the boy did at the moment. Other children were dancing around the base of the slide and yelling things up at him, but the blue-eyed boy only waved a thin stick he had in his hand at them, and howled words back. His mouth was pulled back in a wide, laughing grin, and he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. _Look at you, you little knight. _Toris chuckled with amusement.

Something fluttering and pink caught the edge of Toris' vision, and he slowly rotated his head to glance to the left of him. At the corner of the playground, beneath a huge willow tree, a figure was kneeling with it's hands cupped out in front of itself. Toris had never taken any particular interest in any of the other sixth graders, but this one piqued his interest for some reason. _What are they doing...? _He asked himself, curiosity overcoming him as he daintily crept forwards and watched the child through the fence. When he got close enough, a weird feeling of warmth washed over his stomach. It was _him_ – the child who worked at the flower shop – it was the boy called Ivan.

"Hello little friend." Ivan whispered as Toris neared him, causing the elder to think he was speaking to him. The boy was just about to say a greeting in return, when he noticed the large, green praying mantis that was crawling across the child's hands. "Don't be afraid." The boy purred softly. "I won't hurt you." He assured, lavender eyes glittering with gentle amusement.

Finding this extremely cute, Toris decided to remain mute, and simply observe. His lips twitched into a smirk as the boy continued crooning over the insect in his hands, allowing it to crawl from fingertip to fingertip without a single grimace of disgust, or show of violence. _So he goes to Ravis' school... _Toris thought absentmindedly as he twined his first two fingers into the wire of the gate separating him from school grounds, and stared at Ivan.

Humming, the child set the praying mantis on the ground, at the base of the tree, and watched it with fascination, a grin spreading across his features. His mouth opened, as if he were about to say something, but he was cut of before much could escape his lips. Seemingly from no where, a foot shot down, and landed with a sickening crunch upon the praying mantis' fragile exoskeleton. A cry of anguish exited Ivan's mouth, and he fell backwards onto his back; Toris gasped along with him, glancing up to spot a posse of lanky black haired children. "Y-you murdered her!" Ivan shrieked upon the sight of them, latching his gaze upon the one who had done the deed: the tallest, who had dark almond eyes, and a mouth resembling a straight line.

Unsmiling, the leader of the gang ground his foot upon the poor bug's carcass. His minions snickered behind him, but he remained emotionless. "_It_." He spoke coldly. "No _she_. It." Removing his foot, he inspected the muck left behind on his shoe, then wiped it coolly onto the grass.

Tears sprouted in Ivan's eyes and he leaped to his feet, his tiny chest heaving up and down. Toris remained speechless as he watched the whole scene, his heart fluttering up into his head and giving him a headache. "W-why did you do that!?" Ivan prodded mournfully, his tiny fists clenching and unclenching with fury. He was so much smaller than all the other boys, it seemed. "She wasn't hurting anybody!" He croaked.

The boy grunted in response, sighing in a bored sort of way at the whimpering boy before him. "Bug don't care." He put in blatantly, shrugging his small shoulders in such a way that his jet black hair swished around his face. "Bug don't feel." He continued, then reached forwards and planted his hand upon Ivan's head, digging his fingers into the boy's lovely ashen hair. "Bug has no soul, like you. It a freak of nature, like you. Praying mantis live only to reproduce, then it die...but Ivan can't even do _that_."

Ivan didn't respond to the boy's touch, or his jibes, instead he only let his eyes fall to the ground. Tears crept out of his eyes and dripped down his cheeks, sliding down his nose in little rivers of transparent liquid, and falling upon the corpse of his dead insect friend. One of the other boys snickered at this. "Look, Kiku, he's crying." He laughed. The one called Kiku smiled at this, and removed his hand from Ivan's head. "We should take his scarf, Kiku. Only babies keep things that old, and wear it _all_ the time."

The slightest look of merriment passed through Kiku's eyes, and he cocked his head to the side with a sigh. "Perhaps we shall." He muttered, brown eyes shining darkly, and lips pressed into a hard, straight line the color of paste.

Before they could do anything else, Toris stepped in. Although he was barred behind the fence, he _was_ bigger than them still, and sometimes, that's all it took to scare a bully. Putting on his most authoritative voice, he cracked down upon them suddenly, "HEY!" He snapped, so harshly that all of them, including Ivan, flinched and whipped around. Casting disapproving glares upon the lot of them, Toris resumed his lecture. "You leave Ivan alone _now_, or I'll go up to the office and get you all suspended." It wasn't exactly the best threat, but it was all that Toris could come up with at the moment.

Fortunately for him, Kiku seemed concerned for his standing in school at least, for his mouth opened into an 'o' of shock. "We did nothing!" He exclaimed, aghast. Slowly, he started backing away, afraid of the stranger addressing him from outside of the gates. "You...do not tell, please." The former confidence in the child's voice melted away, and was replaced by an eerie sound of fear and bafflement. His friends all looked at him accusingly, which caused him to grow paler and paler by the moment. "I not scared of you!" He squeaked finally, and then he took his group and ran away.

Once they were gone, Toris glanced down at Ivan sympathetically. "Hey...do you remember me?" He inquired cautiously, noting the tears that still were slick upon the boy's rounded face. "I was at the flower shop-."

Surprisingly, the soft-spoken child cut him off. "I remember." He blurted sharply, although it seemed as if he didn't intend to, for he shrank away almost immediately after, face turning bright red. "I remember everyone who is nice to me..." He murmured, clutching at his pale pink scarf like it was the only thing holding his body as one. "At least, I think I do...Mast – I mean – Temuujin, says I am very forgetful..."

_Why does he call him that? _Toris wondered, although he didn't have the strength to ask; it felt rude, somehow, to inquire why the boy called his father by his name, instead of 'daddy', or the like. "Um...so you go to this school?" Toris asked awkwardly, not knowing what else to say to keep up a conversation. "My brother goes here. His name is Ravis." He added.

A frown touched Ivan's face, and he walked over to the fence, long pale scarf streaming out behind him like a cape. "Oh," He murmured, pushing his own little fingers through the fence and staring at Toris sadly. "but I don't think he knows who I am." He sighed. "Everyone is afraid of me." The hot sunlight lit up the child's face, and made the tears that had previously stained his face light up like liquid stars. A sudden strong desire to reach through the fence and dab those tears away washed over Toris, but he did not act upon his instincts. "Are you afraid?" Ivan asked timidly, the skin of his fingers brushing against Toris' own and bringing him back into reality.

"No...of course not!" Toris responded honestly, eyes narrowing. Who would be afraid of such an innocent child? Why did it seem that everyone was so cruel to this boy? "Why are people afraid of you, do you know?" He asked, gentle, letting his hand slide on top of Ivan's; it was an unintentional reaction, really, it was just...a reaction. Still, he felt glad he did it afterward, as the tension in the boy's body seemed to lessen slightly.

Closing his eyes, Ivan slowly leaned in nearer. "I don't think you will like me when I tell..." He mumbled, almost inaudibly. Still, he went on. "No one likes Ivan because he is broken." He started admitting, speaking in the third person. "Ivan has trouble remembering...anything that happened to him before he went to live with Temuujin. Sometimes, teachers or children say thing...do things... They make Ivan so angry, and so sad, and Ivan starts to see things in his mind. Bloody things. Sometimes, Ivan gets scared, and he cries and cries and _cries_, but everyone tells him he is a bad boy...bad Ivan..." The tiny Russian began shaking all over at the mention of past occurrences, and his fingers tightened around Toris' own, clutching onto him as tight as a vice. They were cold and sweaty, and Ivan did not meet Toris' eyes as he continued his story. "Then, sometimes, children are mean to Ivan. They laugh at him, and call him names, and push him onto the ground. This makes Ivan unhappy...so, one time, Ivan tried to be a good boy. Another boy called Ivan's Mamulya bad names, so Ivan taught this boy a lesson. He shoved him down and punched him in the head, right in the middle of class, until he was bleeding. Ivan thought teacher would be proud, but she h-hit him, and pulled him off the mean boy... T-then...t-then Ivan got a call h-home, and everyone s-started yelling at I-Ivan...and, and, all of them screamed that he was a b-bad boy, a-and T-T-Temuujin c-came and g-g-got m-m-me and t-t-took me t-to h-home a-and-a-a-and...!" Unable to continue, the child sank to his knees with a choked gasp. "I-I d-d-don't even know your name!" He sobbed, tears trickling down his porcelain cheeks. "N-now you think I'm a monster!"

_Monster. _The word rang in Toris' ears like a demented lullaby that wouldn't go away – oh, how he wanted it to go away – put it started playing on repeat, over and over again once he heard it. His mother's hard blue eyes came into his mind, and the sound of his father screaming, and his mother howling, flooded his ears. "N-ne..." He whispered softly, but the child's hand was already tugging itself out of his grasp, as the boy cringed away. "I don't think you're a monster!" He exclaimed when Ivan detached himself from him and fell backwards onto the gnarled roots of the majestic willow.

An awkward silence followed. "R...really?" Ivan asked, almost silently, his whole body heaving with strain and agony.

Shaking his head affirmative, Toris reached part of his hand through the fence, opening it towards Ivan. "You're an an-."

_DIIIIIIIINNNNNGGGG._

The chime of the bell broke apart their conversation, and soon screaming children were rushing towards the gates, swinging their backpacks around crazily and giggling like drunken pixies. Toris' head turned just in time to see Ravis darting over to him, a big smile on his face. He was still holding the stick in his hand that he had been messing with on the playground. "Toris, I mad the most interesting day!" He chirped as he came up and gave his big brother a hug around the waist.

Hesitant, Toris hugged him back weakly, and gave him a polite pat between the shoulders. Eduard was exiting the gate as well, though he looked not excited at all; the only reason it was obvious something good had happened to him was because there was the _teeniest _hint of a smirk on his face. He probably aced a test again. "T-that's great." Toris stammered at his youngest sibling, not sounding very interested at all, and feeling terrible for it. Still, Ravis seemed not to notice and he began rambling about his day as if there were no tomorrow... During this time, Toris peeked over his shoulder towards where Ivan had previously been. The child was gone. The only thing remaining beneath the cooling shadows of the willow tree was the empty air, and the lonesome, unburied corpse of the dead praying mantis.

**Here's a quick (I hope) author's note! Temuujin represents Mongolia. During the time of Tatar's rule, Mongolia had control over young Russia. The Mongolians invaded, and kept the Russians under strict control for a long time. They had a sort of dominant-submissive relationship going on, until finally, the Russians broke away from them (during the time after Ivan the Terrible's rule, I believe...). To ramble further on...I made the bully be Japan (Honda Kiku) because in the comics, Japan _despises_ Russia. He even puts sharp pieces of metal in onigiri[?] (I honestly don't remember) and feeds them to Russia, who only smiles and says they taste good. Mhm. I'm contemplating bringing China in as a character too, although I'm not sure if he'll be a past or present character... _Ahem_. I'm ranting. Forgive me. Who do _you_ think I should bring into the story~? **


	3. Chapter 3 - All Around Me

The Flower Shop of Insomnia

_Chapter 3 ~ All Around Me_

Temuujin was late in getting him, so Ivan sat on the side of the rode and contented himself with playing with the ends of his scarf and pouting. His eyes were bright red and puffy from all the crying he had been doing today, his hands were dirty from digging in the dirt. He had created a nice little grave for his dead praying mantis, devastated at her short life that was ended by the cold foot of a murderous boy. _She's happy now._ He thought to himself with a distant, nonchalant smile painted upon his pale lips, across his face. _She was good so she went to heaven. _It made Ivan sad to think that he would never be rejoined with her, and all his other bug-friends who had died on his watch. He wasn't a good boy, according to his adopted father, and everyone else in the world, so he must be going to hell.

Sighing, the young boy stood and took a few steps, focusing his eyes on the line between the sidewalk and the street, and trying to walk directly upon it without plummeting off and falling onto the harsh asphalt. That one boy – the sweetie with soft brown hair and lovely green eyes like a meadow's back – had said that Ivan was good, however. He had said that the boy was not a monster. Ivan picked at a leaf that was stuck in the wire of his school fence. He wondered if that boy had been lying to him, and really just planned something treacherous... But, the boy had saved him twice. Perhaps this stranger could be his friend after all.

A wicked and yet pleased smile slowly spread across Ivan's face and he laughed aloud, spinning in a circle and causing his baby-soft blonde hair to billow up into the air, revealing the twisted pink scar on his head. Society was so messed up, in his mind. He didn't understand it. One person told him that a certain thing was wrong, but then another would come along and tell him that it was right – and who was he to believe? _The world is stupid. _He thought to himself and the smile turned into one of malice as he twisted the leaf away from the fence and tore it into bits with his tiny fingers. _Grown-ups are especially stupid. _He put the leaf in his mouth, since it was bleeding some sort of white blood, and sucked on it. It didn't taste very pleasant – in fact, it had the faint trace of poison to it's taste – but Ivan chewed it up and swallowed anyways, making a face as it went down.

"Hey!" A sharp voice suddenly called, cracking the air apart with its viciousness, and Ivan whipped around with a look of surprise on his face and leaf juice dribbling down the side of his chin. "Where the hell have you been, _boy_?" Temuujin asked, and he came closer, his elegant black braid bouncing behind him, rhythmically tapping his tailbone.

Confused, Ivan looked down at his feet. Temuujin scared him, and besides that, his eyes were really ugly and Ivan didn't like looking at them. In fact, Ivan couldn't think of one part of Temuujin that he liked looking at. Maybe his braid, but only when he was sleeping and it wasn't moving around; when it moved around it just reminded Ivan of an ugly black snake.

Fire suddenly burned Ivan's hair as he was gripped by it and his adopted father forced his head up, forced him to stare into those bottomless yellow eyes he hated. "I asked you a question, Ivan!" He snapped harshly, narrowing those putrescent eyes into putrescent slits. "What in God's name is on your face?" He went on to inquire, and then made a long show of licking his finger and using it to scrub the leaf juice away. "What the fuck have you had in your mouth!?"

Because he was terrified of Temuujin, and because he had no idea why the man was angry, it was quite hard for Ivan to force himself to fathom answers. It was difficult not to just stare, like a doll, with empty lavender eyes devoid of feeling but yet Ivan found the strength to answer. "I-I was just waiting her for you to pick me up." He tried to keep his voice steady, fiddling with his fingers absentmindedly, and twirling them against the light pink fabric of his scarf. "And I got bored, so I ate a leaf."

Temuujin abruptly laughed. "A leaf? Idiot boy. You're probably going to die now of some type of rare poisoning or some shit. Not that I care. I'll just have to get a new, better servant since you're such a lazy one. You can't even show up on time for me to pick you up and instead have to come out here and act like an oaf!" He started dragging Ivan by the arm now, to his small black car that was parked in the shadow of a tree.

"B-but...you weren't here yet! I've been waiting for you the whole time -." Ivan began.

"Shut your face. I was parked in the front _the whole time_ and you should have known to go and look." He scolded. Temuujin opened the passenger side door – in the front – for Ivan and let him get in, and then shut it with an angry bang and got in on the drivers side.

Everything in the care was completely pristine, so Ivan made sure his dirty hands remained in his lap the whole drive home. He wished he could have had them moving, or playing with something, however, because the whole while the car bumped along the rigid road Temuujin was scolding him and chiding him, and calling him all sorts of names. Only when they finally arrived at the flower shop, which they lived in a small apartment above, did the man finally seem to cool down.

"Have you done all your chores today?" He asked brusquely, glancing at Ivan over his shoulder as he unlocked the front door, which actually led to the inside of the shop. There were stairs to the left of the cash register, that led up to another door, and when that one was unlocked a whole little house was revealed.

Ivan nodded as soon as he was asked. It wasn't a lie. "Da, I did." He glanced around at the familiar flowers, and approached a beautiful rue flower. Its petals were so soft and delicate, and he closed his eyes in bliss as he ran his fingertips over them. His praying mantis deserved a heaven full of flowers like this, and all the wretched prey-bugs she could eat. "I just have to do my homework, now." The boy added slowly, peering at Temuujin from the corner of his eyes.

The skinny Asian merely grunted, and beckoned him to come upstairs. They slowly made there way the top, where the door was unlocked, and Ivan rushed inside to his home. It smelled like incense, and fresh fruit, and everything was arranged tidily and neatly, as if it had been graphed out of a multitude of neat little squares. Ivan inhaled happily and hung his heavy coat on the coat wrack – not that he needed it for it was fairly warm where he lived – but habit had caused him to keep putting it on every day. Temuujin went and sat on the small white couch next to the window, and picked up a big ball of yarn and two needles, beginning to knit. He was usually in a good mood when he did this, and so Ivan decided he would go and sit beside him while he did his homework. Company always felt nice, even though it wasn't someone he adored.

As he started on his math, Ivan softly said, "I think I made a friend today..." while scribbling numbers on the paper. He didn't really know how to do math well, but he knew the answer had to be a number, so he was set with just writing them in. In elementary school, Ivan had been great with math. He'd even created a whole world in his head just to calculate it, and it always made him giggle. _If Ivan had a thousand friends, and he gained five hundred more, he then had one thousand and five hundred friends. _However, he'd stopped caring about that world by the time he reached sixth grade. It seemed to...impossible.

"Really now?" Temuujin raised his eyes from his knitting for a brief moment to survey Ivan and a faint smile flickered across his face. "That's all well. You don't have very many friends. It's probably because you eat a lot of candy so you're kind of fat. Most people think that fat kids are ugly." His eyes flashed like knives and the words cut through Ivan as if he were soft, half-melted butter.

Tossing the math away, Ivan took out his English and began to work on that, finding it much more fun to be able to express himself at least a little bit. He wasn't smiling though – Temuujin had hurt his feelings. In retaliation, he told him, "Well, it's that nice boy who came to the flower shop a little while ago. The one who bumped into me on accident. He's really nice." Ivan began to doodle on his paper without thinking, and the face of the boy soon appeared in his unskilled sketches. "Today he met me by the fence and saved me from a bunch of meanies who wanted to hurt me..." A sigh escaped his lips.

Whether it was because he saw the doodle or was already heated from the words Ivan couldn't tell, but Temuujin stood up and took all of Ivan's homework he had laid out on the ground – the math, the English he had in his hand, the science – and crumpled it into tight balls, throwing them all separately at the wall. Ivan knew better to retrieve those papers; he wouldn't have any homework to turn in tomorrow and would again be scolded by angry teachers who thought he was the stupidest thing in the world.

"So _that's _why you didn't come to meet me in the front of your school! Playing with your little slut friends by the fence, were you?" Temuujin's voice was suddenly ice cold, and if any threats were to come, Ivan was _sure _they would have complete mirth in them.

"N-nyet! You have the wrong idea!" A gasp fell from Ivan's little jaws and he found himself backing away, his body shaking, until he was pressed against the wall. His heart beat furiously inside his chest until he feared it may pop out from between his ribs and fall onto the floor with a sickening, defeated splat. "I-it was during lunch!" He stammered, desperately trying to assure his adopted father that he hadn't done anything bad in the slightest.

However, Temuujin had other ideas, and his mindset would not be changed. "Don't lie to me you selfish little brat. I can see the guilt in your eyes!" He screamed at him, shoulders going up and down with the velocity of a heartbeat. As he neared, his breathing gradually grew calmer, slower, and more dangerous, and his yellow teeth shone from his opened snarling mouth. "So _that's _what you had all over your face...you little whore..." Like remnants of rain slowly dripping off a long blade of grass, Temuujin's eyes fell. Ivan wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what Temuujin was implying before the word even left his lips: "Fagot."

This came as no surprise to Ivan – it wasn't like he hadn't been called a fagot before – and he simply started Temuujin in the face with all of the innocence remaining in his tainted, blackened soul, trembling and longing to taste the purity that the child within him once had.

Gripping the tiny boy's arm like a hungry predator, Temuujin dragged the child over to the pristine couch. "Little misbehaving wretches need to be taught a lesson." He said, and the words that were once water falling ominously from a blade of grass turned into ice. He made Ivan bend over the couch and started to take of his belt behind him, the jingle all to familiar to the Russia, who stared ahead at the wall with dead eyes.

A beating wouldn't phase him, no, Ivan got those too often. It would just be the same old pain, falling again and again, until the child could no longer support himself on his own two feet and he could feel the hot trickles of blood falling from his body where the belt slit the skin and made him cry harder than normal. A beating gave Ivan no incentive; it gave him nothing but new bruises to bring to show and tell tomorrow... And Ivan knew that, no matter what Temuujin did, he would still wake up beside the man, cuddling his hand like he was the only person in the world keeping him clinging to life, and sucking on the end of his braid like a child trying to substitute for a mother...because Ivan had no one else. He had no friends. That nameless kid was just another illusion sent by god to test and torment him as he walked the endless tightrope of life, above a pit of burning fire that he was bound to plummet into eventually.

After all, all bad boys are doomed to go to hell.


End file.
